My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.
The computer had power. Trembling, I pressed the power button to turn it on.
While waiting, I strained my ears. I still heard Mrs. Eleanor grumbling in the coffee area.
“What a disaster. A short circuit like that and it could burn up all the equipment.”
The computer turned on. I quickly inserted the USB drive. My hands were shaking so much I missed the USB port several times.
Calm. Calm, I told myself.
I opened “This PC.” I didn’t know if she had put a password on the file. I went to the D: drive, to the accounting folder, then “internal,” and there it was: GOLDMINE.xlsx.
I held my breath and double-clicked the file.
A dialog box appeared.
Enter password.
Darn.
I froze.
Password? What was the password?
What do I do now?
Mrs. Eleanor was about to leave the coffee area. I panicked.
I looked at her desk. A yellow Post-it was stuck to the screen. “Santi’s bday 15.”
It must be it, I thought, trembling.
I typed “santi15.”
Enter.
Incorrect password.
My God, that wasn’t it.
What could it be?
I looked at her desk calendar. Mrs. Eleanor had a day marked in red: December 25th, Christmas.
I typed “1225.”
Enter.
Incorrect again.
“Kemet, why are you taking so long? Where is the cloth?” Mrs. Eleanor shouted. It sounded like she was coming out.
I was desperate. What to do? Should I leave?
No.
I looked at the computer again. I remembered that Mrs. Eleanor was a careful person. The password must be something she would never forget.
I remembered the file name: GOLDMINE.
Gold reminded me of money, of power.
“Kemet!”
Mrs. Eleanor came out of the coffee area.
I startled. I quickly pulled out the USB drive. I had failed.
I grabbed the first cleaning cloth I found.
“Here I am. I was looking for it,” I said.
Mrs. Eleanor looked at me.
“Why is your face so pale? What a mess. Get out of the way.”
She walked toward her desk, grumbling.
“With a short circuit like this, I don’t know if the computer survived.”
She sat down. She double-clicked the GOLDMINE.xlsx file. The password box appeared.
I was standing behind her. I held my breath.
Mrs. Eleanor started typing. I strained my eyes. I couldn’t see her fingers clearly, but I saw the characters appear.
“Eleanor1978.”
The file opened.
My God. The password was her name and her year of birth.
Mrs. Eleanor checked a few numbers and muttered,
“Fortunately, I didn’t lose the data.”
Then she closed the file.
I stood paralyzed. I had the password, but I had lost the opportunity. Mrs. Eleanor would never let the computer shut down again. The outlet was broken. I couldn’t repeat the trick.
I felt completely defeated.
I spent the rest of the day working like a s
